


Stealing my Best Line

by meangreenlimabean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Foreplay, Last Day On Earth, M/M, Sam Knows, Sexual Content, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 19:12:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5597590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meangreenlimabean/pseuds/meangreenlimabean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tomorrow is the apocalypse. Time for Dean and Cas to be honest about their longings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stealing my Best Line

Dean stood tensely, staring across the small space at Cas, who was looking back at him with equal apprehension. “So,” Dean began, “this is really it, huh?” He was relieved that he sounded much calmer than he felt. Tomorrow was the big showdown, and none of them expected to make it out alive.

Sam had just walked out, telling them “no time left to waste, idiots!” As if to further prove his point, he had driven off in the Impala.

Cas was staring at Dean with a somewhat frightened expression. “This is it,” he echoed. He chewed on his bottom lip nervously. “Our last night on earth?”

Dean let out a strangled laugh. He’d used that as a cheesy pickup line plenty of times, usually without success. He rubbed his hand over the back of his head.

“I’m not sure why that was humorous,” Cas said, squinting at him.

“No, it’s not,” Dean apologized. “Nevermind.” It took all his willpower not to move back when Cas took a step towards him.

“Sam was correct,” Cas stated, “there is no advantage in throwing away the hours that remain.”

Dean just stared, his heart in his throat. His eyes grew wider and wider as Cas drew closer.

“It would be... remiss to pretend I haven’t sensed your longings, Dean.”

“Longings?” Dean squeaked.

There was no teasing in Castiel’s expression. He waited for Dean’s response, his gaze cool and unflinching.

“Okay, so, let’s say there were… longings. What about you?”

A tiny smile flickered at Cas’s mouth, his eyes crinkled at the edges. “Of course, Dean. I have longings for-” he paused, stood a little straighter. “I have spent a great deal of time considering- you. I often hoped for something more between us.”

Dean wondered if this is what a heart attack felt like. He couldn’t feel his fingers. “Something more? Li- like…”

Cas did not waver. “Physical. Emotional. Sexual. Romantic. Take your pick.”

Words eluded him, so Dean nodded dumbly.

Cas stepped closer still. “Is that how you wish to spend what is probably our last night alive?”

Again, Dean could only nod.

Finally,  _ finally _ , Cas closed the gap between them and brought his hand up to Dean’s cheek. Dean was busy trying to remember how to breathe so he wouldn’t pass out. This was finally happening. He’d wondered about this so many times, but always pushed it out of his mind. No point mooning over things that could never be. Yet here they were,  the angel’s soft, dry lips just millimeters away from his own. He shut his eyes.

Cas brushed his mouth across Dean’s, so lightly it could barely be called a kiss. Dean shivered. He leaned in, needy, but Cas moved back. He cupped Dean’s face in both hands, giving him a stern look, then kissed him again, their lips touching so lightly that Dean found himself gripping the fabric of Cas’s jacket to try and steady himself. Cas pulled back again, mischief in his eyes as his gaze flickered over Dean’s slack face.

At last Dean found his voice. “Come on man, fuckin’ kiss me!” He tried to tug Cas closer.

Cas was immovable. “Do you have someplace to be, Dean?”

Dean couldn’t stop staring at those lips. “Shit, dude. I thought you wanted to do this. Get more physical, or whatever.” He cringed at how juvenile that sounded, but Cas had already started to unbutton Dean’s flannel.

“If a prompt ejaculation is all you want, then I suggest you take care of it yourself.” He pushed the shirt down over Dean’s shoulders and tugged the sleeves off his arms. “But as I already told you, I have considered every variable, all possible scenarios, and I would prefer not to rush this.” He pulled Dean’s t-shirt up over his head, then crouched down to work on his belt buckle.

Dean’s arms hung useless at his sides. Words had left him again. He reminded himself to blink, before his eyes could fall out of their sockets. Once Dean was stripped down to just his boxer briefs, Cas gave him a gentle shove back onto the bed, then crawled up to join him, still fully dressed. “Is this what you want?” he asked, his voice rough and low.

“Too many clothes, buddy,” Dean said, his voice just above a whisper.

Standing up again, Cas shucked off his jacket and let it fall to the floor. He loosened his tie and pulled it over his head. Dean could only stare. It was nothing like any striptease he had ever seen or imagined; this was so much better. Cas undressed at a measured pace, his eyes never leaving Dean’s. Once he was down to only a pair of boxer shorts, he climbed up beside him again; he ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, finally grabbing a short handful before he leaned down to crash their mouths together. This time he kissed Dean properly, exploring with his lips and tongue, taking his sweet time until Dean was gasping and arching up into him.

Again, he paused to look Dean over. They had hardly begun and the hunter already looked utterly wrecked. Cas cracked a little smile, satisfied with his effect so far. Dean’s pupils were dilated and his body was flushed pink. “Cas, please,” he groaned.

Taking pity, Cas lowered his mouth to Dean’s chest and began a slow trail of biting and sucking, until he took a detour across the inside of Dean’s bicep and heard a soft grunt of frustration. He pulled away, sitting back on his heels.

“Dude, what are you waiting for?” Dean complained, pushing up onto his elbows. Despite his frustration, he was distracted by this semblance of Cas turned on: his hair mussed from Dean’s fingers, his lips parted, his chest heaving. So much for angelic control.

Cas peered down at him for an achingly long moment. “The better question is, why are you in such a hurry?” The corner of his mouth twitched. “We have approximately nine hours and eleven minutes until daybreak. Even if you plan for a minimum six hours of sleep, I would like to put the rest of that time to it’s fullest use.”

“Wait, do you mean-” Dean made a sour face, trying to do the math in his head, but the blood flow necessary for thinking was busy elsewhere.

Steadily, Cas put a hand on his chest and pushed him back down onto the bed. “Roughly three hours and ten minutes. Would you like to continue arguing?” Dean shook his head frantically.

Cas bent down to his kiss his neck, then spent a few minutes sucking at a tender spot just under his jawline. Dean clawed at the sheets, throwing his head back. Then Cas brought his mouth to Dean’s ear and whispered raggedly, “in case this is our one and only time together, I plan to make it memorable.” Dean made a desperate, embarrassing noise in his throat as Cas’s mouth began to explore his torso.

By the time Cas reached the elastic of his briefs and began to ease them down, Dean was shaking with anticipation, tears leaking from his eyes as he whimpered and writhed. Also by that point, Dean couldn’t care less how he looked.

Cas made every minute count.


End file.
